I hope you enjoy this issue of Between the Layers! Share it with your friends.
Dear readers, When I was living in England in March 1994, my father sent me a detailed letter about the horrific ice storm that had taken down hundreds of trees on our hillside home. My parents in Nashville stayed in the house for the duration of the storm and were without power for two weeks. My sisters and I always felt that ice storm took him down, too. I am trying not to let it get to me although now I am experiencing ice storm madness as well. So this letter will be brief. The trees started crashing down in the wee hours of Sunday before daylight. You could hear heavy limbs slam into the icy ground with sonic thuds, and flashes in the sky told us electrical transformers were on their way out, too. I don’t have internet or power. So I am texting this message to my daughter who will upload it to Substack. (Pssst, you’re welcome, Mom.)
Please feel free to comment and give us a weather report where you are.Nashville’s ice storm may end up affecting more people than my dad’s storm. It is currently 12ºF outside and 42ºF in my house as I write this letter in my mom’s old mink coat at the kitchen table. Today is day three. We knew it was coming, but do you ever know how bad it will be? We have two gas fireplaces, which keep us a little warm. Faucets trickle in upstairs bathrooms so the pipes don’t freeze. And people ask, why don’t you go to a hotel? One, we can’t get down the icy driveway past the fallen trees; two, we can’t leave this old house and have the pipes burst; and three, I’ve heard you have to drive an hour south of Nashville just to find vacancy.
On the bright side, we still have eggs, bread, oats, tea, and coffee for breakfast. No toaster, obviously, but we’ve got a six-burner gas stove, and griddled bread in a skillet is lovely. I spotted a loaf of cranberry walnut bread in the freezer, and it was already half-thawed. How wonderful! And I found some solace in a retro sort of recipe, but I’ve forgotten the name. Not toad in the hole because there’s no toad (sausage) and instead just an egg. You cut a hole in a slice of bread with a round cutter. Place the slice (and the round) in the skillet and once it sizzles in butter, crack an egg into the hole of the bread. If you like your egg soft, cook it a few minutes, and for those who prefer a more well-done egg, flip it, and cook on the other side. Serve with jam. We spooned over Damson plum preserves and orange marmalade. With the kitchen now colder than my fridge, many ingredients stay on the counter. And the food that needs colder temps is outside in the Yeti cooler with the lid propped open. We’ve got ripe bananas. I’m thinking of making mashed banana pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast tomorrow. The bacon in the freezer should be thawed by then! Last night, after a day of moving tree limbs and charging telephones in our cars, we treated ourselves to warmed-up fudge sauce poured over the last of the peppermint ice cream.
For keeping warm, I pulled out the real-deal Irish cardigan and a heavy brown plaid blanket that belonged to his grandmother. Growing up in Montana, she knew the value of a good, heavy woolen! But mostly, these few days of frontier life have been about conserving battery and making good use of daylight. I cooked dinner at 2:20 pm yesterday. Love the rechargeable table lamps we can carry safely like candles come nightfall. With no Netflix, Instagram, email, you might wonder what is one doing with all this free time away from screens? Reading and working on a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle when there’s light. Catching up on texts with friends and family midday if we’re outside and find cell service. Playing trivia after dinner by the fireplace. And thinking. About how when we remodeled this nearly 100-year-old house my grandfather built, we were attempting to carry it into the 21st Century. Now, ironically, the house has dragged us back even further. At least we have running water—it’s cold, but we have water.
I’m glad I’ve had the chance to experience an ice storm. It reminds me how we need people. A neighbor dropped off kerosene for our heater. She wouldn’t take cash, so we handed her a bottle of good red wine. Here’s hoping the world improves by the time our power returns, that ICE leaves Minneapolis, and maybe it has already left, I have no idea. The saddest thing about being cut off from the world is being cut off from the world.
Take care of yourselves, - xo, Anne P.S. Once my power is back on, I’ll share this week’s recipe and story, and it’s a tribute to Minnesota. How are you coping with snow and ice storms? What did you wish you had stocked up on? More patience, kerosene, dry shampoo?You’re on the free list for Anne Byrn: Between the Layers. If you’re liking what you’re reading, why don’t you become a paying subscriber for more recipes, stories, and content.
|
0 comments:
Post a Comment